Picking Up American Men: A How To
by smittykittyn
Summary: RATED MA: 18 ! Another quickie (you're welcome). Ship is Us/Uk. Enjoy!


Every night, just like the last, wasting away in this dingy bar. Arthur holds his forehead in his hands, bent and broken over the counter. He hated this place, this state, this Country. He missed his home and his family, missed the English rains. The bartender, a victim of his ceaseless rants, often asked why he stayed. His answer was always the same.

"The money."

His company back in London relocated to the States, a country where they could pay their employees a little less and reap the benefits of tax cuts for the wealthy. It was a wise business move, but that meant you either relocated with or lost your job. Arthur decided to relocate.

The real mystery was why Arthur kept returning to this specific bar. It's atmosphere wasn't unique, and it wasn't as if it was convenient to either his work or home location. Truth be told, there's only one thing that compels him to return.

His brooding comes to a halt. He feels the presence of someone looming behind him, their hot breath causing his neck to sweat.

"Are you just going to stand there and breath down my neck?" He inquires, not bothering to look the perpetrator in the eyes.

"I was plannin' on it, yeah." A man's voice replies.

Recognizing it, another regular here, he finally cracks a smile (if only for a moment). "Do I smell margaritas?"

"You do. Taco Tuesday, my man." The other slaps him on the back and sits atop a stool next to Arthur.

"And you don't think you've you had your fill of alcohol already?"

"Nah, never!' The American pauses to pat his stomach. 'I'm a tank; never satisfied."

"Until you're unconscious, Alfred?"

"Exactly!" Declares Alfred.

The American turns to the bartender to order another round of beer (Or Piss Water, as Arthur likes to call it). Whilst he does so, Arthur manages to steal a glance.

Alfred's sweaty, dirty, and a little bit less toned than Arthur should like, but he's otherwise handsome. Tanned flesh, a mess of blonde hair atop his crown, and cerulean eyes. He's Arthur's antithesis; with his own blanched skin, groomed blonde tresses, neat appearance. They've got only a few differences (at least look-wise), Arthur's eyes are a woodsy shade of green, and he's several inches shorter.

The only reason he keeps coming back to this wretched bar.

Returning to the conversation, drink in hand, Alfred flashes him one of his dazzling-crooked smiles.

"So, anyways, Artie, I've been thinkin'. You should come over again sometime, last time was a blast, yeah?"

Arthur tries to stifle his embarrassment. "Oh? It definitely was fun. That _movie_ we watched was very good, one of the best I've seen this year, I think."

"Yeah, you liked it that much, huh? That _movie_?"

Arthur lifts his glass to his lips and downs the last bit of his drink. "I did."

Alfred, with his eyebrows aloft cockily, quickly finishes his Piss Water. "Wells, watcha say we blow this joint?"

Arthur doesn't drive so they take Alfred's car. It smells musky and has a sizable collection of McDonalds bags in the back. They don't talk the entire seven-minute drive, but their body language is conversation enough. Fidgeting, squirming, anticipating.

Upon stepping foot into Alfred's home, they're upon each other. Jackets fall to the floor first, and belts rattle as they're carelessly removed. Their lips clash together, parted and ready. Tongue tangle and breathing becomes hot and ragged. And whilst embracing, they begin ambling their way to the bedroom. They leave a trail of garments in their wake.

Arthur is pushed onto the mattress. It has no frame, and it's a little too firm for his liking. But, it isn't as if he does much sleeping when here. Alfred is atop forthwith and Artie finds himself immobilize; pinned by his wrists, arms above his head. His thighs spread easily, bidding Alfred entrance betwixt them. In a slow, rolling motion, Alfred begins grinding into his partner. The act evokes Arthur to gasp, and ushers his own hips to grind in return. When Alfred can feel the other's cock stiffen and tremble, he makes a move for the lube nearby and begins lathering up.

Artie lifts his hips in anticipation, and coos when the pink capitulum of Al's cock presses into his orifice. He's able to enter with respective ease, neither are innocent at this age, but the sensation of his ass being filled still causes him to stir.

"Slower." Arthur pleads.

Alfred obliges him for the time being, carrying on with the slow and languid pace he'd set at the start. Only when Arthur's body seems to relax, and his groaning becomes more recurrent, does he step up his game. Their sweating bodies cause every slap of their flesh to sound sick and wet. Arthur's back arches drastically, chin turned up and mouth agape. His yelping is incessant, and just when he feels it becoming too much, he warns Alfred to pause.

"Let me ride you." He purrs, cheeks red and eyes alight.

"Mmh, please." Alfred responds, already adjusting.

Arthur sprawls across the expanse of his partner's body and wraps his arms about Al's neck. They kiss slowly, tenderly, openly, but eventually the Brit does peel away. He straddles Alfred, hands positioned to balance his weight. Alfred guides himself back in and Arthur begins undulating his hips. Alfred bucks his hips, his jaw ajar, breathing ragged. His hands grip the smaller man's hips tightly, threatening to bruise the hide.

"Damn." He breathes.

Arthur smiles cockily. Then he leans forwards, arms once again gripping his partner by the nape of his neck. He begins to bounce his ass, which makes little slapping sounds every moment of contact. Alfred jolts, incapable of hiding his pleasure anymore. He groans loudly and inhales sharply. 

"Artie, It's too good-…"

"Don't hold back." He replies.

Alfred sloppily licks the inside of his palm and begins pumping Arthur's shaft. Hard and fast, his wrist focusing on the sensitive head, he milks the orgasm from him. And it doesn't take very long. Artie jerks forwards, both hands now clawing at the sheets, his chest heaving. His quivering sex spurts and drenches Al's fist and chest.

Arthur's orgasm causes his hole to tighten around Al's cock; that, coupled with Arthur's twerking ass, pushes him over the edge. He pulls out just in the nick of time and pumps his cock until the semen lashes out, coating the Brit's backside.

Artie sits up, hands splayed across Al's abdomen, shoulders slumped. He inhales and smiles.

"Wow."

"Me too." Alfred breathes, closing his eyes for a moment. "Go team,' He says, lazily lifting his hand to be high-fived.

Arthur high fives him. "Go team."

((ANOTHER WORTHLESS SMUTT DRABBLE. FORGIVE ME. I only know one genre, and it's SMUT. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I have hopes to start rolling out some longer fanfics, but we'll see how that goes. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and please feel free to leave some constructive criticism!))


End file.
